


The Wayward Apprentice

by Skullharvester



Series: Current WIPs [7]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Warlock - Freeform, felguard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullharvester/pseuds/Skullharvester
Summary: It was not unusual for an apprentice of Dalaran's mind to wander to forbidden secrets, but the curious thing was the wonder of where that whim would take them.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Current WIPs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120226
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy and have fun!
> 
> If you liked this tale, please drop me a kudos and/or a comment to let me know if you'd like to see more!
> 
> Thank you, and have a wonderful night!

“You’re going to live with trolls? They eat people, you know. Especially gnomes, so I’ve heard. I’d reconsider if I were you.” Aurinium lifted the hem of his robes with one hand, holding an open tome in the other as he walked alongside Shiraia, his gnomish companion, on the cobblestone streets of the magical city of Dalaran.

Dalaran was a place like no other among the human-dominated territories, which tended to be skittish of spell craft. Nestled between the forests of the Hillsbrad Foothills and protected underneath a massive arcane dome that glittered like the night sky even during the daytime, it was currently the most well-known sanctuary of magi in the modern era. Only the most promising apprentices and prestigious spellcasters came here, or so the archmagi would tell you.

Whenever Aurinium wanted to silence the bragging of one of his superiors, particularly in front of the younger students, he would comment, “I’m partial to Scholomance myself. You know, the school of magic in Caer Darrow. I hear it’s to die for.”

Of course, Scholomance was the illegal learning place of necromancy, founded by the rogue wizard Kel’Thuzad, formerly one of Dalaran’s own archmagi and rumored to be one of the members of the Council of Six, the council that made all of the most important decisions that effected the residents of the city.

It was no wonder why Aurinium was particularly disfavored among his peers and frequently was getting himself into trouble. He didn’t know when to keep his clever mouth shut.

“The Darkspear trolls expressly forbid cannibalism, brother,” said the gnome with a sigh as she struggled to keep up with him. Aurinium was short for an elf, but his legs were still significantly longer than hers. It didn’t help that she was weighed down by stacks of books that she could hardly see over. 

Come to think of it, he hadn’t offered to help her carry a single one; he was seemingly too preoccupied with his one book that he held when they crossed paths by chance that day, and he decided to follow her as she went about her daily errands for the eccentric wizard Archmage Vargoth.

“How do you know that?” he asked. “Let me guess: You read it in a book in the library.”

Shiraia frowned behind her tower of tomes as she hobbled along, hoping she was going the right way towards the library in question. “Well, how do _you_ know what _you_ claim to?”

“Don’t forget that I used to live in Quel’Thalas once. We have trolls lurking everywhere in our forests. They eat people,” he stated. Truthfully, he’d never seen a troll eat someone with his own two bright blue eyes, but he’d heard about it from a Farstrider friend of his, and if one of the well-respected rangers that looked after the homeland of the high elves said it, it must be true.

“But those are _Amani_ trolls, aren’t they?” the gnome asked, hopping up the stairs as they reached the vast library’s entrance.

The elf shrugged, watching his every step carefully as he followed her so that he didn’t trip over his long silk crimson robes. “A troll’s a troll.”

“You’re too skeptical of everything an authority figure tells you, Aur,” she said, as if reading his mind about the source of his information. “I doubt you really believe that.”

“Maybe I do,” he said, if only to be stubborn.

“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “At any rate, I’m going. It’ll only be for a little while, and I’m going to disguise myself as one of them using the illusion spell Archmage Vargoth taught me. If I ever want to become an archmage, I’ll have to finish my thesis on voodoo magic. Unlike you, _some of us_ have to _work_ for our progress.”

Aurinium took the jab as more of a compliment, and said, “I can’t help it that I know the right people and you don’t.” He went on, unable to resist an opportunity to brag. “Or that even I fumble on the written exams -,”

“Because you _never_ study,” she pointed out.

“- I pass all of my tests because of my good marks from the demonstrational halves.”

“For now, but your dumb luck will run dry eventually,” she added. 

Shiraia almost made it to the top without issue this time, but on the last step upward, her stack of books went tumbling down the long staircase, causing her to cringe with worry that with each thump as they impacted the steps, their spines were being dented or their pages were being bent. 

Vargoth was going to punish her _again_ for her clumsiness.

When she turned around, holding only three thick tomes in her palms now, she was unsurprised to see Aurinium laughing at her accident. Her pale face went pink and hot with frustration, and her eyes glossed over as tears were forming. 

She almost wanted to push him down the stairs and see what would happen to _his_ spine. But Shiraia wasn’t as cruel as he was, so with a sigh of defeat, she wiggled past him in the narrow space and went to retrieve her books while he entered the library without her to have a seat on one of the plush couches to read his book and wait until she had returned.

_Of course_ he wasn’t going to help, even now. Lazy, pompous high elves.

It took her ages to collect the books and bring them back up. She placed the stack down on the table in front of the couch Aurinium was sitting in, beginning to sort through them so that they could be easily returned to their homes on the shelves, of which there were too many.

“What are you reading, anyway?” Shiraia asked, looking up from her work. Only now did she notice something unusual about the leather it was bound in. It seemed dark, but not from dye. Tainted. Corrupted by something. 

Whatever it was, she knew then that it was not a book _he_ had any business reading. And to think, he had it open out in public, like it was just your average tome!

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said casually. “It’s just a bestiary. Nothing special, but I’ll have to return it today.”

Today was, incidentally, the day they inspected the rooms of every student for contraband items. An odd day to pick to return a book, when he normally brought back everything he borrowed extremely late.

“I’ve never seen you read anything that wasn’t a steamy romance novel,” Shiraia said curiously. “Why a sudden interest in creatures?”

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve left the city. I guess it’s left me wondering what all is out there in the other parts of Azeroth.”

The gnome pursed her lips together and hummed thoughtfully. Her self-adopted sibling _had_ been acting very strange recently, but then again, he was a capricious person, so she thought little of it until now. She decided to say nothing about the matter, and got back to putting the books away, along with filling out the paperwork involved to proclaim that they had been brought back on time.

In the span of a couple of hours, Aurinium finished his book, disappeared at some point when she was distracted, put it back wherever it went, then said his goodbyes to the red-headed gnome, and called it an evening for himself, returning to his personal quarters.

Shiraia waved farewell to him, and pretended to the best of her ability to be unsuspicious of what he had been up to, waiting until she could no longer hear the light patter of his silken slippers on the steps before she hurried to the forbidden section of the library that, between the two of them, only she had clearance to access, thanks to her apprenticeship under Vargoth.

Her heart sank as she spotted the spine that had to have belonged to that tome Aurinium was holding earlier. She climbed the shelves and pulled it out to have a proper look at the title when she had safely climbed back down with her feet to the floor again.

_Demonology, A Warlock’s Guide to the Beasts of the Twisting Nether_


	2. Chapter 2

Shiraia held up her hands, creating an icy barrier to protect herself in case she wasn’t fleet footed enough to dance around the miscellaneous items that were hurled at her by her infuriated mentor. She was fairly certain that among those things, she saw a live rat go by – no, it was a ring, or rather an inkwell. 

Ah, it was one of those items that Archmage Vargoth had enchanted that went so unstable with arcane magic, it couldn’t decide on a corporeal form. _That’s_ what it was that sailed past and just barely missed her head.

“You let him go into the forbidden wing of the library!?” Vargoth roared at her. “You fool!”

Suddenly, she no longer heard the sound of objects being thrown her way, and she deemed it was safe to open her eyes now and lower her hands. 

Vargoth was sitting back down at his desk, fuming at first, but in an instant, his expression had softened to one of indifference as he slouched forward and rested his bearded chin on his clasped hands, elbows propped up against the desk made of the wood of a dead treant – it still had the creature’s face on the surface and everything, which Shiraia always found unnerving.

“Ah, well, it’s no matter now. I’ll just write a letter to my colleagues, and we’ll have him expelled,” said the archmage listlessly.

“What!? No, please! You can’t do that!” Shiraia, in her horror, had climbed right onto his desk so that they could see each other eye-to-eye. “It’s my fault; I should’ve known he couldn’t be trusted to be in there without the librarian on duty to keep an eye on him.”

“Well, it _is_ your fault, but it’s a little late in the semester for me to pick a new apprentice, and I’m not going to have Modera outdo me like she did the last semester! So, one of you has got to take the fall for this, and for my sake, it can’t be you!” Vargoth slammed the empty candleholder on his desk like a judge’s gavel to make his point final. The treant face at the center appeared to contort in a wince.

Archmage Modera. That’s who Shiraia originally wanted her mentor to be, but she had already chosen an apprentice, unfortunately. This left Shiraia stuck with Vargoth, and Vargoth stuck with her. She supposed she should have been proud and thankful to have such a renowned teacher, but Vargoth was too unpredictable for her liking and not even remotely as nice as Modera was.

Aurinium, meanwhile, was under the tutelage of Aethas Sunreaver – a blood elf who shared the same homeland as Aurinium. Blood elves weren’t necessarily a whole other breed of elves; they were high elves partially tainted by the corruption of fel magic when their prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider, lead their people into joining the ranks of the demonic force known as the Burning Legion in the desperate, yet foolish, hope of recovering the glory of their people when Quel’Thalas was sacked by the undead Scourge only a few years ago. The main thing that distinguished them from other high elves were their emerald green eyes.

Woefully lucky as ever, Aurinium narrowly avoided being present for a full-blown Scourge invasion _twice_. He happened to get admitted into Dalaran just before the Scourge came to the gates of Quel’Thalas, and to his fortune that ultimately always seemed to mean _misfortune_ for everyone else, as soon as he went abroad to observe the fire magic of the Dark Iron Dwarves, who else should show up but Prince Arthas himself with his bloodthirsty band of shambling corpses?

Although, Shiraia couldn’t speak much of the matter. In fairness, she wasn’t there for that incident, either. She was glad that they both were spared from such a tragedy. It just seemed unfair sometimes that he should be so lucky, especially when it often meant that others nearby were going to pay dearly, while it was always the kindest souls who got the brunt end of things. 

Such was life, Vargoth told her each time she found herself questioning the “why” to it all. Some people had all the luck, and he even had a theory that such people either consciously or subconsciously used arcane sorcery to literally drain luck from others, which explained why there were some who seemed to have none. 

On one occasion, he suggested to Antonidas, former leader of the Kirin Tor (the governing body of Dalaran which encompassed the Council of Six) before his death at the hands of the Scourge, the idea of dissecting a few students like Aurinium in order to find out if this was really the case, but the ancient wizard gave him such a disapproving look in response that Vargoth claimed it was merely a joke and left it at that. But now that Antonidas was gone and that Aurinium may no longer be a student soon, perhaps he might revisit the idea, permitting that his colleagues didn’t try and stop him. They could be real sticks-in-the-mud at times, in his opinion.

Now that his thoughts were becoming creative again, Vargoth dismissed Shiraia with the wave of a hand, using a rush of arcane magic to gently spirit her away out the door, before he began to write his proposal to have Aurinium exiled from the city. He never liked the elf, anyway, and was sure that Aethas would be relieved to be rid of him, too.

Shiraia was distraught. She didn’t know what to do; she’d failed one of her few and closest friends, and she had no idea where he was going to go when the decision was finalized – surely the archmagi were going to approve it, as they had been actively searching for a good reason to throw him out. Technically, he put this upon himself and this had been a long time coming, but she wished she could have done more to prevent the inevitable from happening.

There was only one thing she could do now as a friend: Tell him, so that he at least had time to prepare. She hoped that he could make some arrangements with someone he knew back home if there was much of a home to go back to. Maybe he could get an apartment somewhere in Silvermoon or stay with an old friend. 

Wait, were high elves even still permitted into Quel’Thalas anymore? She remembered overhearing the conversation between Aurinium and Aethas about how it was a scandal that they were working together as teacher and apprentice because it was clear from Aurinium’s blue eyes that he hadn’t gone with Prince Kael’thas and the others on their expedition, which from the point of view of most blood elves, marked him as a traitor. 

Aurinium assured him that he would have gone, had he gotten the summons, but as it so happened, they must have been lost when Dalaran became the next target. Wasn’t that convenient? That totaled up to _three_ tragedies, that she knew of so far, that he’d missed out on by a hair. He evaded two Scourge invasions and demonic enslavement.

But considering that book Aurinium had been reading, he might have liked it in the Burning Legion. He might have stayed, even, unlike so many of the other blood elves who eventually got the feeling that their prince was leading them down the wrong path – one that would lead into even greater ruin. Shiraia shuddered at the thought.

So, chances were, Aurinium would be homeless and left to the wolves. All because, ironically, he finally picked up a book to study; it was just the wrong book. Life was funny that way.

Reaching Aurinium’s room, Shiraia knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She knocked on it twice and waited again. Before she could lift her tiny fist to rap against the door a third time, she heard a window open and bare feet pattering against the cobblestone. She went back outside the building to go see what it was, and saw a young human man wrapped in nothing but a bedsheet running down the street until he remembered he knew an invisibility spell to hide his shame, thus disappearing out of sight with a flash of arcane.

That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when she came to visit her elven friend, but she was a little sad that she never got to meet the mysterious gentlemen that came stumbling out of his room. Then again, she suspected that Aurinium didn’t know them, either. Whenever she asked, he could hardly recall even their names.

When she was young and dreamed of romance but feared heartbreak, her mother, prior to her passing, used to tell her: “Well, dear, the good news is that you only need one.” If only she had lived to meet Aurinium; he evidently had a very different take on love, if that’s what his escapades could be called.

Shiraia couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually happy seeing different men all the time. She always thought it might be nice to have a familiar face around that never left your side, but Aurinium scoffed at that and said: “That’s what friends are for. Never share a bed with your friends; that’s just _asking_ for trouble, believe you me.”

She wouldn’t have known; she’d never been with anyone like that before, but she kept the advice in mind.

Returning to the student apartments, Shiraia tried the door again after giving Aurinium plenty of time to make himself decent, or at least as decent as he ever got. This time the door opened right away, and thankfully he was back in his robes.

He didn’t even say hello, he just gestured for her to come in, then went to go sit on his bed and pick up the stem of the lit hookah lying at the foot of it, putting it into his mouth to take a drag.

When Shiraia came near, he blew the smoke in her face, causing her to cough heavily and flail her arms to wave it away. She had to summon a gust of cold air to allow herself a fresh breath. He chuckled as she gasped and wheezed, seeing his actions as a cute prank.

“That was uncalled for,” she said in between coughs.

“I know,” he replied, holding the hookah stem between his teeth.

“What is that you’re smoking, anyway?” she asked. “It’s so foul!”

“Bloodthistle,” he answered.

“Isn’t that illegal to have here?”

The elf shrugged his slender shoulders. “Aethas brought it for me to try. Why? Are you going to tattle to Vargoth? Or maybe Khadgar.” He paused to think. “No, Khadgar’s gone away again from the city right now, hasn’t he? Has unfinished business with those living, talking windchimes in Outland. That’s too bad; I know he’s your favorite.”

Shiraia’s face went red at the mention of Khadgar. “Now is not the time to tease me, brother. I’m here to tell you something important.”

Aurinium reclined on the bed, continuing to smoke from the hookah languidly. “Oh, well if it’s _important_ , then…”

“You’re being expelled.”

It was hard to tell because his skin was already so pale, but his face had gone completely white. “Wh…” The hookah stem dropped from his hand and rolled across the floor as he sat up straight.

The gnome gave him a serious stare. “You know what this is about, and don’t pretend that you don’t. Yesterday in the library -,”

The elf had become enraged. “You _snitched_ on me!” he exclaimed, standing up and towering over her, even at his meager five and a half feet. “I can’t believe it!”

“I would _never_! I’ve _always_ covered for you!” Shiraia had to compose herself. Using her innate talent with frost magic, she chilled the blood in her veins to slow her own heartbeat. “Vargoth found out on his own. You must have broken one of his arcane seals in the library when you were poking around.”

As a fire mage, Aurinium’s blood continued to bubble in his own veins, but he ultimately didn’t take his anger out on her. He slumped back down on the bed, covered his face with a hand, and began to sob, hot tears rolling down his pretty face and mingling into his pointed pitch-black beard at the end of his chin.

Shiraia had never seen him break down like this before, not in front of her. His jaw quivered when he tried to speak, but nothing came out, so she sat down beside him on the bed and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t deserve it, but she still pitied him for what he was about to go through. 

After all, he was very close to becoming an archmage himself, and now all of that was dashed away because he kept on pushing the luck that he thought must be infinite.

She did warn him that one day, his luck would dry up. Now she felt like she’d jinxed it.

“It’s going to be alright,” she said, petting his long dark hair like her mother used to when she was upset.

“No, it’s not,” he wept, sniffling and choking on tears.

“It could be worse. They could have thrown you into the Violet Hold. At least you have your freedom,” she mentioned. That only made him cry harder. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing – comforting people, that is.

She tried to think of something better to say. “Well, you’ll always have me.”

“Oh, well, that counts for a whole lot, _doesn’t_ _it_?” he snapped sarcastically. Now _her_ feelings were hurt.

Shiraia let go of him and took his hands into her own. “Look, what’s done is done, and there’s no going back now. You’re just going to have to face the consequences of your own actions for a change, but I will do everything in my capacity to help you in any way that I can.”

“You’re right,” he croaked, stopping himself from crying any more, though his face was still drenched even when the tears were no longer coming. “What’s done is done.”

“Do you want me to go and find that nice young man that climbed out your window a few moments ago, and see if I can bring him back here?” Shiraia offered. “Would that cheer you up?”

Aurinium nodded, drying his face with his sleeves.

If nothing else good came out of today, Shiraia would, at the minimum, have the opportunity to test out the Detect Lesser Invisibility spell Vargoth had taught her.


	3. Chapter 3

Aethas Sunreaver watched from the open doorway with folded arms as his now former apprentice begrudgingly packed his bags for the journey ahead. This was hardly a good start to Aethas’ reputation as a newly inducted archmage of the Kirin Tor, with his very first apprentice being ejected under his watch. Aethas was already treated with doubt because of his young age, by elven standards, and had all sorts of other stressors on top of that. Could things get any worse?

He should have known better than to stick his neck out for a high elf in the first place; his peers had warned him about this one especially, but he thought they might be proven wrong. It was a shame that they were right, as he saw a lot of potential in Aurinium as a fellow fire mage. They could have done great things together, if only the high elf hadn’t drawn so much attention to himself.

Aethas believed there was no harm in bending the rules, if the reasoning was just or if the regulations themselves were unreasonable, but he knew how to do so more subtly. He tried to pass this knowledge on to his student, but apparently it went through one long ear and right out the other.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he was going to miss his student, despite how much of a headache Aurinium could be. 

There weren’t many others within his social circle in Dalaran that saw eye-to-eye with him when it came to his approach to getting things done. Aethas’ heart was always in the right place, but he often felt that to do good, one sometimes had to forsake doing things “by the book”. To his perpetual frustration, most of his peers disagreed, but Aurinium was one of his few supporters in that regard.

For the longest time, he admired Aurinium’s boldness, but now he wondered if he’d been mistaking simple rebelliousness for bravery.

“Kalimdor,” Aethas said, unable to remain silent any longer. “You’re going to _Kalimdor_.” He strode inside the room, shutting the door behind him to ensure their conversation was private, as he suspected he wouldn’t be able to keep his own voice down for long. “What, are you going to go live among the trolls yourself with your gnomish friend?”

“No, I’m only taking the boat with Shiraia to get there.” Aurinium pulled tight the cord that sealed the top of the bag containing his clothing, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up his remaining luggage in either hand.

“I’m going to go reunite with our night elven cousins,” he added in jest. “What do you care where I go? You’re not my teacher anymore.”

“I’m still your _friend_ ,” said Aethas, blocking Aurinium’s exit when he tried to leave. Aurinium moved to one side, and Aethas quickly mirrored the action until the other elf simply gave up.

“I see you still haven’t mastered the Blink spell yet,” the archmage noted, probably grinning under the hood that obscured his face entirely.

“I know how to do it,” Aurinium claimed. “I’m just not keen on the possibility that I might teleport directly _into_ you and be stuck with you for the rest of my life. You’re handsome and all, but eventually we’d need to start seeing other people.”

As much as he tried to resist it, that made Aethas chuckle. In that moment, Aurinium set his luggage down to free up his hands long enough to pull Aethas into a hug that was reciprocated once the archmage got over his surprise.

“Good luck on making it here in Dalaran,” said Aurinium as he patted the blood elf on the back. He took up his bags once again, and Aethas allowed him to pass.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Good luck on your adventures in Kalimdor. Though you may no longer be permitted to stay here, I don’t think anyone would object to you stopping by to visit outside of the gates, so… do that on occasion, will you?”

Aurinium paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Typical Aethas. Always looking out for loopholes,” he teased with a smirk playing on his lips.

The archmage waved farewell. “I do what I can.”

* * *

Shiraia and Aurinium sat side-by-side near the edge of the cargo ship, gazing out at the horizon and taking in the gentle sounds of the ocean. 

Aurinium didn’t think he’d enjoy having to travel across Azeroth the usual way; he wanted to go via a portal but was told that traveling long distances using magic wasn’t as easy as he assumed. 

Teleporting short distances, like a few feet away, was taxing and extremely risky. Going further was that tenfold, and expensive too. To go any further than a meter, one needed special reagents that empowered the spell, and frankly, catching a ride on a vessel that was already headed the same way was considerably more affordable. It was probably safer as well, even when one accounted for all the things that could go wrong using standard travel methods.

He still would have chosen the portal if given the option, but the boat ride had its charms. Granted, they had only been out at sea for a few hours now, so he was still unaware of the downsides.

“So,” Aurinium began, peering down at the gnome. “Go on, then. Turn into a troll. I want to see it.”

Shiraia looked at him with disbelief. “Doing that will cost me reagents, brother. It’s not a simple spell. Vargoth only gave me so much enchanting dust to last me the duration of my stay, so I’m only using it when the time is right and not a moment sooner.” 

She pointed to their mostly human crew that were ambling about, tending to their duties on the ship and hardly paying any attention to the two magi as they came and went above and below the ship's deck. “Besides, I might confuse the ship’s crewmembers. They could think I’m an enemy stowaway from the Horde. They have spies everywhere these days. I suppose we can thank the SI:7 in Stormwind for instigating that.”

“Fair enough,” said Aurinium, though he was very let down. He wondered if she would still be as tiny in her troll form. As a gnome, she barely came up to his hip, and that was only because he was so minute himself. “Maybe you could show me when we get off the boat, whenever that’ll be.”

Shiraia was nearly given a heart attack when a human man bowed down between them to listen in on the conversation.

“Are you talkin’ about trolls over here?” asked the man. “I like trolls. They’re fun folk.”

For a moment, Shiraia had to stare at the man’s face. Perhaps she was already starting to miss her mentor, but she thought he looked somewhat like Vargoth, until she remembered that Vargoth’s hair was more of a strawberry blonde than ginger and he was much older. 

Still, one could never be too sure, as the archmage loved to use illusion magic to catch people off guard. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the man _had_ followed her along the way to Kalimdor, either to see her off safely or bother her.

But, no, she was quite certain that she’d never seen this man before, and as far as she could tell, he was no wizard.

“Who are you?” asked Aurinium, taking the words right out of her mouth, although she would have said them much more politely.

The man pointed a thumb at his chest and flashed a proud grin. “I’m Budd! Budd Nedreck! I’m first mate on this ship.”

Shiraia put on a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Nedreck-”

“Just call me Budd.”

“Of course. I am Shiraia Frosttouch and this is my brother and colleague… former colleague–” The elf pouted at her correction. “–Aurinium.”

Budd looked at the elf, then back to the gnome, back to the elf, and finally settled his attention on Shiraia. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed! You don’t look anything alike!”

Shiraia laughed. “We’re not _actually_ brother and sister. Neither by blood nor legally – it’s just that everyone used to say we were like siblings.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Aurinium’s mouth as he muttered, “Don’t confuse him too much now. I’m not sure this is the kind of man who can handle too many thoughts at once.” He scooted away when she reached out with a short arm to bat at him to demand quiet.

Now that there was space between them, Budd took it upon himself to sit between the two. “Ohhh. Makes sense! I think.” He scratched his head, really mulling it over.

“To answer your question from earlier, yes, we were talking about trolls,” Shiraia informed him. “I’m going to live with one of the tribes, so that I can learn from them and complete my test for becoming an archmage.”

“I’ve never been too good with tests. Or learnin’,” said Budd sadly, though he perked up almost instantly. “But I know some things about trolls that I could teach you! Y’know, so you’re prepared for when you go meet up with them.”

“Oh, I have to hear this,” Aurinium said eagerly, leaning closer to the human.

Although Shiraia sincerely doubted the man had anything of value to say on the matter, she hardly wanted to come across as rude and hurt the poor human’s feelings. He was probably just as bored as they were on the ship and needed someone to talk to, so what was the harm in indulging him?

“Go on,” she said with a nod, stretching her smile wider.

“Ever played Troll Tag?” asked Budd.

“Troll Tag?” they repeated inquisitively at the same time.

He was thrilled at the prospect of knowing something that a couple of wizards apparently didn’t. That didn’t occur often, much to his dismay. 

“It’s loads of fun! The trolls love it! You sneak up behind one of your fellow trolls – I’m part troll, y’see, on my mother’s side–” Neither one of them believed that. He was very clearly human. “–and you pull out your “tag stick” or frying pan if you don’t have one, then…”

Budd drew back a clenched fist, pretending to be holding something in it, and thrust it down with all his might. “Wham! Ack!” Losing his balance on the edge of the boat, he went overboard in an instant with a heavy splash.

Shiraia gasped. “Budd!”

Aurinium, on the other hand, chuckled as he watched the human flail around in the water, imagining he was clowning around for their amusement.

“Can’t swim without my breathin’ hat!” Budd cried out when he pulled his head just above the waterline.

The elf’s laughter paused. “Huh?”

Shiraia grabbed Aurinium by the sleeve and shook him. “Don’t just sit there! Do something to help him!”

“Like what!?” he snapped. “And what kind of sailor doesn’t know how to swim, anyway!?” Now he was panicking almost as much as Budd was.

Shiraia was barely any less rattled than he was, but she had her head on straight enough to come up with a plan. Leaping to her feet, she stretched out a hand, spread her fingers apart, and muttered an incantation under her breath while sweeping her arm in an arcing motion. A portion of the water solidified into a tiny iceberg, which Budd was able to clamber onto with some effort on his part.

He used his arms to paddle the chunk of ice over to the ship’s hull, fortunate that it wasn’t large enough to cause any damage when the ice bumped against it. The gnome picked up the pile of rope laying nearby, tied one end to the mast at the center of the ship, then tossed the other end out for Budd, so that he would have something to climb.

When he scaled all the way up to the ledge of the boat, he grabbed onto the front of Aurinium’s robes, giving the elf no choice but to assist in hauling him upward, and Budd flopped onto the deck like a massive fish pulled from the ocean, spitting out saltwater.

“You saved me!” the human gasped, shivering on his knees in his wet clothes.

Aurinium seemed to shrink when he saw how proud of herself Shiraia was. She was the true hero in that moment, and all he really did was just sit there and gape for the most part. His peers back at Dalaran would’ve laughed at how useless he was then, but what could a fire mage really have done in that situation to help?

He reached over to touch Budd on the shoulder, and with the use of his fire magic, he made the man’s clothes dry in a flash. There. That was something, wasn’t it?

“Ah, much better! I really like you two!” said Budd, now nice and toasty in a pleasant sort of way. “You should both join the crew! We could always use helpful folk like yourselves!”

Aurinium smiled at the compliment, having some of his ego restored.

“The offer is greatly appreciated, but our destinies lie elsewhere,” said Shiraia. “We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Suit yourselves!” Budd replied, standing up and twisting his torso to stretch his back. “Tell you what, though – mugs of Rumsey Rum Black Label on me!”

Shiraia chuckled as Budd comically marched to the ship’s galley to fetch the celebratory drinks, then beamed at Aurinium cheerfully. “It was good of you to help. I’m sorry to say this, but for a while there, I didn’t think you would.”

The elf knit his lengthy eyebrows together ponderously. “Help? I hardly did anything.”

“You pulled him up and dried him off, didn’t you?” she asked.

“He grabbed onto me. What else was I supposed to do? And so what if I dried his clothes? What does that matter?” he retorted.

“I could have accidentally given him hypothermia if you hadn’t warmed him up so quickly,” she pointed out, uncertain of why he was getting so defensive. “All I’m saying is that we worked well as a team just then. What’s wrong with that?”

Aurinium snorted. “You know I don’t like being on teams. Other people just get in my way.”

“Get in the way of your spotlight, you mean.” She grinned at him, knowing she was right from the surprise in his face.

“N-No.” He waited for her to accept his rejection, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to back down from her accusation. “Alright, that might be the case _to a small degree_.”

Shiraia sighed, then went to go touch the handle of the mop resting beside the entry to the captain’s cabin. Magic transferred from her finger into the mop, and it came to life. She gestured for it to go and clean the water remaining the deck before anyone slipped.

To Aurinium, she said, “One of these days, you may have no choice but to learn to work with others, especially now that you’ll be out on your own. As someone who worries greatly about your well-being, I hope you will take it to heart when I say that you should at least _consider_ trying to be more of a team player.”

He didn’t respond, but she could tell that her words gave him something to think about.

“I’m going to go lay in my hammock for a bit. When Budd gets back, tell him to bring my mug to me. All of the ship’s rocking is making my stomach sick,” he said, and absconded to the crew’s sleeping quarters to brood for the rest of the afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

Aurinium didn’t care much for boat rides by the time they had finally arrived at the shores of Kalimdor. He hurried off the ship as soon as the vessel docked at the neutral goblin-ran port in Ratchet. With his luggage in tow, he had the unrealistic hope that stepping onto solid land would make him feel better. It did, but only psychologically.

Shiraia came along after finishing the cup of hot chocolate Budd prepared for her as a parting gift. She had the sense to pack much lighter than Aurinium did for the trip – only bringing the bare necessities, which could be kept in a single backpack she weaved herself to match Darkspear troll craftsmanship. She eyed his hefty luggage concernedly but thought better than to bring up the question of how he was going to manage dragging all three bags with him, wherever it was that he intended to go.

“Where _are_ you going, anyway?” she asked now that the question was on her mind.

“Ashenvale,” he said quickly, pretending to take great interest in checking to make sure everything he owned was accounted for.

“It might be dangerous for you there,” she warned, pulling out her sack of enchanting dust. “A lot of night elves are still very resentful of how you high elves nearly doomed their civilization with your deep curiosity in the arcane.”

Aurinium sighed and walked along the dock with her. Even he had a hard time sulking for long with all the sights to see; he’d never seen a goblin town in person before, much less been in a savannah. “That was ages ago. I wasn’t even alive back then.”

“Even still, they hold grudges for a very long time,” she replied, clutching the top of her magic dust-filled bag tight, as if it might suddenly grow a pair of legs and run away. It very well could, especially since it was a gift from Vargoth.

Aurinium, so wrapped up in gawking at the scenery, wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going and tripped right over a middle-aged goblin man who was walking and talking with a much younger female goblin.

Shiraia and the female goblin jumped back when the two males toppled over into the dirt road, kicking up dust that left everyone coughing. The male goblin spit out dirt and pushed aside one of Aurinium’s bags that fell on him, while the elf rubbed his eyes as they tried to recover from the fall.

“Hey, pal, watch where you’re goin’! I’m walkin’ here!” grumbled the male goblin, who pulled his patched pants higher up over his round gut and adjusted the two large bolts decorating his scruffy reddish-brown sideburns until he was content that he looked somewhat presentable now. He didn’t, and wasn’t much cleaner _before_ he ate dirt.

Aurinium narrowed his eyes, dusting off his robes and gathering his belongings up again before standing. “You walked into _me_ , goblin,” he insisted.

The elf’s haughty tone made the goblin’s olive-green face go scarlet with indignity, but the female goblin with him calmed him down just by placing a hand on his shoulder and saying, “Fuhgeddaboudit, big bro. It’s no biggie. It was an accident, an’ thankfully nobody got hurt. C’mon, let’s get goin’. Da boss is gonna be grumpy with us if we don’t hurry up. Our squad ain’t gonna wait on us forever.”

The male goblin nodded at her, breathing through his nostrils to keep his temper in check. He shot the elf one last glare, then he and his younger sister were back on their way to join up with a larger group of goblins that were climbing up a rope ladder to board a small zeppelin. Aurinium and Shiraia could have sworn that the female goblin was using wind magic to help her out of shape brother get to the top, because an unnatural gust of wind kept blowing at his back whenever he found himself slowing in his ascent to pant for air.

“She must be a shaman,” said Shiraia as she and her elven companion left Ratchet.

Aurinium blinked. “Do goblins even _have_ those? I thought you had to be the sort who was one with nature to be a shaman.”

The gnome was equally mystified. “Perhaps there are some that are.”

“Doubtful,” said Aurinium. “I’ve never heard of one that doesn’t plunder every land they come across. They might have found a way to enslave the elements by force, so that they can more easily harvest the natural world’s resources.”

Shiraia stopped just as they found a nice shade tree where she could apply her disguise. “Have you ever even met a goblin just before then?” she asked while sprinkling herself with dust from her pouch.

The elf took a while to answer. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I’ve heard, from some very reliable sources-”

“You really need to stop judging people based on appearances and hearsay, brother.” 

Slowly, the gnome’s physique began to change. She was becoming taller and small tusks were sprouting from underneath her bottom lip. Her pink skin turned a light shade of blue, her ears became long and pointed, and her shoes had gone away, leaving in their place large feet with two big toes on the end. She was now unmistakably a troll, and Aurinium wasn’t as ready to see it as he thought he was; his eyes had gone wide at seeing her like this.

“It’s still the same me,” Shiraia said with a smile. “Hm. Let me try again; I need to practice my troll accent.”

She cleared her throat. “It still be de same ol’ Shir, brudda. How’s that?”

“You’d fool me,” said Aurinium, unsure of how they actually spoke.

“I don’t be needin’ any help wit dat, mon. Ya already make a fool outta yaself witout me help,” she replied, flashing her large teeth. Female trolls weren’t as scary as Aurinium thought they would be in real life. She actually looked very friendly as a troll.

“Hmh. Well, good luck on your journey. I suppose you’re heading for Durotar now?” he said, trying not to stare directly at her for too long. He didn’t want to give her the impression that he was so shocked to see a troll in person when he probably should have already had that experience at this point in his life.

She nodded. “Aye, but I’ll probably spend a night or two at de Crossroads, if dey’ll be havin’ me. It not be far from ‘ere.” Shiraia pointed up the road. “I tink it be best dat we part ways. Can’t be seen travelin’ togeda. Wit all dis flat land, ain’t no way we not gonna be spotted, an’ I don’t need ta draw any suspicion.”

Aurinium fidgeted anxiously at the realization that he was going to be all alone from this point onward, in a land that was completely foreign to him. “Good point. Send me a… whatever kind of bird lives out that way when you arrive in Durotar. I’m curious to know what it’s like there.”

“Sure!” Knowing his ways, she assumed his real intent was to make sure she’d arrived safely. “Take care, Aur. Mebbe dis all be a change bot’ of us be needin’ in our lives. Dalaran be a wonderful place an’ I’m sure Quel’Thalas was beautiful at least once, but ya gotta see de rest of de world, too.”

“Maybe…” He dragged his luggage behind him, sinking back into his thoughts as they went their separate ways. Shiraia followed the road, while Aurinium went around the mountain, heading north.

* * *

The following weeks were some of the most gruesome in Aurinium’s entire life. He had to sleep in trees just to avoid detection not just from the natives, but especially the varied wildlife found in the Barrens.

A few days in, he ran into a creature that he couldn’t tell whether it was boar or man. It chased him right back up into the tree he’d come from when he thought the coast was clear, and stole his two larger bags of luggage that had fallen from the bough in his urgency to get to safety. 

Now all he had left was the bag he wore over his shoulder, but fortunately that was where he kept his rations. Though he knew how to identify edible herbs, he didn’t fully trust his intuition in this strange land and would only consider eating what he found as a last resort when his dried foods were depleted. 

He was lucky that he ate like a bird to the degree that it kept him from feeling famished, but malnourishment was still steadily taking its toll in this harsh and hot place where the sun beat down on him aggressively. When he stopped at an oasis that he initially thought was only a mirage, he was relieved to have real, fresh water cupped between his hands once again, but was chased away in the midst of filling his waterskin by a hydra that emerged from the waters, snapping its hissing heads at him for daring to encroach on its territory. He didn’t want to linger long enough to find out if the creature spit anything other than saliva.

Entering the perpetual night of Ashenvale’s mild forests made him think at first that he might have died and passed on to the Shadowlands to the fabled realm of rebirth druids wrote tales of, but he knew his soul was not so pure as to go on to that place.

However, as he wandered the enchanted woodland, he had the distinct inclination that he was being watched by unseen eyes and at times even swore he heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn back. He expected something to jump out at him at any moment, but bizarrely, nothing ever did. It was a much calmer trek than the one through the Barrens, and something about being here gave him an ancestral sense of belonging. True, it wasn’t as sunny as the forests of Eversong in the land of Quel’Thalas, but these were ancient elven lands all the same. 

_What might life have been like if he grew up here_ , he wondered.

He might not have enjoyed it, he thought to himself. He’d always heard that night elves lived very ascetic lifestyles, borrowing only what they needed from the land and in turn giving back all that they could. Though Aurinium liked to borrow things, he always hated giving them back. More often than not, he never did.

Plus, most night elves lived in a great tree called Darnassus, and after his experiences with that in the Barrens, he couldn’t imagine being too keen on that, either. Didn’t the bark and branches scratch them horribly as it did him in those smaller trees? Maybe they were so in-tune with nature that the trees were kinder back to them. It was possible.

As he walked along the road with quiet footsteps, he saw in the distance many things that sparked his curiosity, yet he didn’t dare leave the road to inspect them more closely. If he hadn’t been so exhausted by his adventure thus far, he might have taken the chance, but at this rate, he just wanted to get to his real destination.

Moonkin, owl-bearlike creatures shuffled between the myriad trees and bushes, on guard should someone meddled with the balance of their sacred forest. Furbolg encampments were littered here and there, and he even caught a glimpse of the chieftains of two tribes in peaceful conversation with one-another, though he couldn’t say what it was about; he didn’t speak their language that was filled with growls and grunts. Besides, he was too amused at the sight of two bears standing upright and talking to each other. He liked to think that they were just discussing the weather or negotiating the trade of honey; bear-y important business indeed.

Further and further north he went, and soon he came upon a path that was patrolled by crazed withered treants that shambled aimlessly, haunted by whatever force had turned them mad. He stopped there, unsure of whether he wanted to proceed; they seemed extremely dangerous and there were several of them.

Then, he remembered he was a fire mage, and that they were made of wood. Surely, they would pose no great trouble. He conjured up a fireball in his palms and shot it forth in a giant ball. It set one of the treants ablaze, and then another as it ran into one of its allies for help. 

The elf was about to summon more fire, until he heard the lumbering steps of one of the moonkin that had followed him all the way there, waiting for him to step out of line. It bellowed an odd-sounding cry in grief to see sacred spirits of nature suffer so, and that attracted more moonkin to the spot. Aurinium was now surrounded by moonkin, and the remaining treants were closing in as well.

“Oh,” he uttered sheepishly, wishing he could become as small as his gnome friend so that he could skitter away in the small gaps between the creatures, but he did not know that particular spell. “Well… No hard feelings, right?”

The treants gave a hollow perturbed moan, and the moonkin were squawking threateningly as they came nearer. He thought he was done for as one of the moonkin raised a mighty paw, but a single bullet fired from a long distance put the creature down. The shot rang out in the otherwise peaceful forest, sending frightened birds fleeing from the treetops above.

Aurinium stepped over the fallen creature, hurrying to get away without tripping over the body as a scaly red blur of a beast charged his way from the opposite direction. He thought it was after him, but it clawed, bit, and raked at the treants and moonkin, shredding them to pieces while more shots were fired between it and the adjacent assailants.

Where was the gunner, and would they aim for Aurinium next?

He found himself diving into the nearest mess of shrubbery for cover, and he trembled so hard the dying leaves shook off their branches, waiting for it to all be over with and hoping that the gunner would leave him alone. He’d dueled other wizards before, but never with the intent to kill and he wasn’t confident he could take someone with this level of marksmanship skill in a fight to the death.

Whatever, or whoever, was approaching his hiding place now had started laughing at how afraid he was.

“You can come out now,” said a female voice. He felt the butt of her gun tap the sole of his slipper that was poking out of the shrubbery.

Aurinium struggled to get out but found that he couldn’t. “I’m stuck.” The woman laughed again, and he was starting to resent her for mocking his precarious situation. To her credit, though, she and even her beast assisted him with getting free, but his robes had been torn in several areas by the thorns in the process.

Now that he was free, he could see that she was a night elf, and her pet was a raptor. Now it made sense how the beast managed to remove the branches so skillfully; those lizards were intelligent enough to use simple tools with their surprisingly dexterous hands, but in this case, it only needed to cut away at the vines and branches very carefully with its sharp claws.

“Thank you,” Aurinium said, and without missing a beat added, “Nice pet.”

“Thanks. I got her from Durotar; they’re all over the place,” said the night elf.

“What business does a night elf have in Durotar?” he scoffed, but she just grinned back at him.

“I could ask the same thing about you being in Ashenvale, highborne.”

“I’m looking for something,” he replied in a way that made it clear he didn’t want to elaborate further, but she kept prying.

“Like what?”

“None of your business.”

The young night elf huffed (he imagined she couldn’t have been much older than he was, but it was hard to tell with elves, even as one), leaning against the butt of her gun, which she was now holding like a cane. “I see you’re very grateful for me saving your life.”

“Don’t get me wrong: I am, but it really is nothing you should concern yourself with.” Noticing that his bag was still stuck in the thorns on the vines strangling the shrubbery, he fished it out and put the strap back over his torso. He was about to go before she spoke again.

“You’re going to Felwood, aren’t you?” she asked. How did she know? There must have been nothing else to go this way for.

He turned back around, eyeing her and her raptor warily. “…Perhaps.”

“Me too. I have family that lives there – cousins of mine. They’re working on “saving the forest”, or something. I like to stop by every now and then to gloat about how well I’m doing with my “non-traditional” lifestyle, just to rub it in their faces.” The smirk reappeared on her blue lips.

“I wondered what a night elf was doing with a gun,” Aurinium admitted, turning his attention back to the firearm again, then to her pet. “And a raptor from Durotar.”

“They wanted me to be a druid, but honestly, it wasn’t my style. I used to know how to turn into a nightsaber, but that was about it. Now I’m out seeing the world under the Alliance’s banner. With the humans and dwarves and everyone else who's thrown in their lot with them,” the night elf explained. “My name’s Likane, by the way. And you are…?”

“Aurinium.”

“No fancy high elven surname?”

“You could say that I’ve put my family behind me as well.”

That answer seemed to please her. “I know my way through Felwood pretty well. Do you want me to come with as your guide?” She looked hopeful, giving him the impression that her raptor wasn’t sufficient enough company at times. He couldn’t blame her for that, but he shook his head no.

“Again, I appreciate your assistance – I really didn’t expect a night elf to choose my life over those of their precious forest-creatures, but from this point onward, I think I should be fine on my own,” he said, reluctant to take a traveling partner on. 

He just couldn’t begin to imagine how annoying it would be to have to compromise at every turn with someone else for the sake of survival. What if she nagged him for his habits, or insisted that they keep going whenever he wanted to sleep?

She frowned, taking offense as her offer was rejected, and she put away her weapon in the holster on her back, beckoning her pet to follow. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you think a few treants and moonkin are bad, wait until you get to Felwood. Good luck, highborne.”

As he watched her leave, he considered changing his mind, but by the time he could bring himself to admit he was wrong, she was already gone from sight. The green-tinted mist that enveloped the path forward had effectively caused her to vanish, and no matter how far he searched as he traveled it himself, he could not find Likane or her raptor anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

Likane was right; Felwood was a lot worse. Even the air here was oppressive, as it was heavily polluted by smog and fel magic, and it was a struggle just to breathe without gagging. 

Every other tree seemed to glare at Aurinium as he passed with the evil faces stretched across their trunks or cackled at how sick the humid and unnerving atmosphere was making him. It was awful; everything here was dying a slow and painful death or becoming mutated into something unnatural and horrific.

The elven mage was so woozy from the fumes that emitted from the airborne spores of the fungi growing here and there along the road that he had to stray from it to avoid fainting. Covering his nose and mouth with the back of his sleeve did little to protect him. Everything was so invasive here, trying to creep into every pore and strangle him from the inside if it could.

Passing through the trees, which he genuinely believed were closing in on him to try and trap him there, he saw more furbolg, but these were not as peaceful as the ones he saw before. These two tribes were going to war with each other, and they were fortunately too distracted and too addled to pay him any mind. Suddenly, furbolg weren’t just funny bears that stood upright and talked anymore. He wanted to return to Ashenvale, but he knew subconsciously that there was no turning back now.

He’d have no luck finding drinkable water here in these lands; all of it was turned green and murky, and even glowed ominously. The sparse liquid in his waterskin would last him only so long, even with the tiny sips that he took.

He picked up his pace when anomalies made of sludge, debris, and bone crept from the water when he came near, inching towards him curiously. He noted that the already decaying grass dissolved instantly in the slime trail they left behind, and he didn’t want to become the next victim.

The dilapidated bridge he had to cross creaked under his feet, and on numerous occasions, threatened to break and send him into the bright green water below. His palms sweat against the handrail as he imagined sinking down and being swallowed up by the ooze monsters, becoming the next pile of half-digested bones residing inside.

A massive specimen of the sludge creatures slipped out of the water and blocked the other side of the bridge. It turned slowly by wriggling its blob of a body, and stared at him, daring him to finish crossing. 

Aurinium couldn’t do it; he turned back around and looked for another route forward, but his cowardice brought him right to the place he wanted to find: Jaedenar, a warlock outpost that was mentioned in the book he most recently read that told him known locations of where certain demons could be found on Azeroth all without having to summon one directly from the Twisting Nether.

There was a warlock spell that would allow him to bind a demon to his will. Across all the tomes he’d managed to read from the forbidden section of Dalaran’s library, none of them contained any summoning spells, but he did find one that instructed how one would go about dominating a demon that was already present. Ironically, the book was written by a priest that, at the time, had no idea they were practicing warlock magic, and was using the technique as part of their work as an exorcist to subdue demons and keep them docile.

Aurinium figured this spell would save him a lot of trouble. All he would have to do is find a demon, then enslave it with the spell without having to expend the effort and reagents necessary to bring it from the Nether to Azeroth.

And since there were warlocks here, maybe one of them would even be willing to teach him their craft proper. He liked Aethas well enough as a mentor, but regular fire magic grew dull after a time and only had so many uses. The powers that warlocks allegedly wielded, on the other hand, seemed so enticing and exotic compared to what he knew. How could he resist the temptation of learning their forbidden art?

He tried to remain hidden as he watched the warlocks practice from afar. Most of them were orcs and undead humans, and one group was in the middle of a ritual in which they drew dark energies from the corrupted moonwell that indicated this was once an ancient night elf settlement – possibly druidic in nature, judging from the barrow dens nearby where druids would often slumber safely as their spirits left their bodies to explore the Emerald Dream, a realm that mirrored this world if it were untouched by mortals.

While hiding behind a crumbling pillar, Aurinium felt hot breath on his ankle as the warm air seeped under the hem of his robes, yet as he was turning around, a barbed appendage lashed out and pierced through his clothing to the side of his leg. Within seconds he felt weak and delirious, and then slumped to the ground

The last thing he recalled seeing before passing out was the dog-like creature crawling on top of him and stabbing him in the chest with the other barbed appendage that sprouted from its back, but a massive armored hand grabbed it by the collar and jerked it back. Then a thunderous voice yelled, “DOWN, FZUUDHON!” He wasn’t sure how he understood the words, as he knew they were spoken in Eredun, the tongue of demons.

Everything went black after that.

* * *

Aurinium’s eyes felt heavy when they finally opened again, and the world around him was blurry as his vision adjusted to the grim lighting of the fel-infused campfire crackling a few feet away. He was taken to a secluded place at the edge of Jaedenar, locked in a cage, and now his captor was standing up from his tree stump seat to examine him from across the demonsteel bars of the person-sized birdcage-shaped prison.

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up,” said the massive demon, a felguard who had to be at least around eight feet tall and was clad in almost full red and gold armor (except oddly, his torso, neck, the upper part of one arm, and the bottom half of his face were the only parts that were bare – one would think those would be some of the most important places to protect), as he peered at the high elf curiously with his glowing magenta eyes.

One of the demon’s gauntleted hands wrapped around a bar of the cage, while the other reached inside to grab the elf by his jaw to turn his head from one side to the other. Aurinium thought the creature was going to break his neck, but he was surprisingly gentle.

The demon hummed thoughtfully after he was finished, and finally let go, taking a step back to give the mage some space. “I can tell you’re dehydrated, but other than that, I think you’ll be fine.”

“What happened to me?” Aurinium croaked, resting his back against the bars uncomfortably.

“One of my felhounds got ahold of you and tried to drain you of your mana. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, you would have been little more than a husk,” said the demon, sitting back down on his stump and resting his forearms on his thighs.

“So, you saved my life?” asked the elf.

“For now,” answered the felguard gravely. “My superior, Lord Banehollow, hasn’t decided what to do with you yet. I expect that he’s going to send someone to interrogate you soon. Or use you as part of an upcoming sacrificial ritual.” The demon shrugged, making the long, armored spikes on his muscular back shift into an awkward position briefly. “Either way, don’t count your blessing just yet.”

“I-I came here to become a warlock,” Aurinium stammered. “I’m not a spy, or even an enemy. Surely you could explain this to your Lord Banehollow.”

The felguard chuckled mirthfully. “You? A warlock? You couldn’t even handle a felhound _pup_. Lord Banehollow doesn’t have time for novices. I’ll bet you don’t even know a single demonic spell. You don’t, do you?”

“Yes, I do!” It was only partially a lie. Technically, he knew just the one, but he wasn’t sure if he could actually perform it; he never had the chance to try. “I’ll show you, if you would just come closer again.” The elf eyed a stick laying in the dirt, then pointed at it. “And hand me that.”

“Why? Not going to try to poke my eye out with that, are you?” The demon’s cracked lips almost split open with how much he was grinning with amusement over the elf’s ineptitude.

“No, just do it and I will show you that I know a thing or two about warlockism,” huffed the elf, making a grabbing motion for the stick, which the felguard yielded to him.

The demon watched with mild intrigue as, with a quaking hand, the elf leaned forward, stuck his arm and the stick out from between the bars, and tried to draw a rune around the felguard’s feet. It was so terribly drawn and useless that the demon threw his head back in laughter. He snatched the stick out of the elf’s hand, stepped out of the circle, and corrected it with great precision. Aurinium was in awe as he observed the demon’s handiwork; the book he read suggested that felguards didn’t practice magic and were only foot soldiers in the Burning Legion, yet this one clearly knew what he was doing.

“ _That_ is how you draw a proper binding circle. If I were to step into the center of that, I would be thoroughly paralyzed until the rune was erased,” said the demon. Aurinium looked at him as if expecting him to demonstrate, but of course he couldn’t be so lucky. 

“I’m not an idiot,” grumbled the demon before he very carefully turned the soil back over with the tip of his foot, rendering it safe for demons to tread upon again. “It’s unfortunate that this lesson won’t do you much good, as I’m sure you won’t be around for much longer.” The felguard tossed the stick back to the ground.

“And what happens to me in the meanwhile?” asked the elf, sinking back inside of his prison with an air of dread.

Picking up his two-handed axe, the felguard paced around the cage as he spoke. “I’ve been instructed to keep watch over you in case you _are_ a spy and might have a cohort who may come to rescue you. Jaedenar’s secrets will not slip away so easily.”

“I wasn’t here long enough to see much of anything,” Aurinium said truthfully.

“The inquisitor will determine that,” said the demon definitively.

* * *

Days went by, and an inquisitor had still yet to come. Even the felguard was getting impatient about how long it was taking. It could be assumed that Lord Banehollow, whoever he was, was very busy and preoccupied with other more important matters, but this was getting to be ridiculous.

Surprisingly, the felguard was not as horrible of a jailor as he initially let on; he was shockingly thoughtful. Every day, he brought Aurinium food and water, and even let him out of the cage when he needed to use the bathroom, though he expected that was more for the felguard’s sake than his own. Aurinium tried once to make a run for it after pretending to go behind a couple of bushes for some privacy, but one of the demon’s hounds tracked him down and literally dragged him back to the cage kicking and screaming. 

Even so, he was given a second chance at trust after learning his lesson the first time. When asked why, the felguard simply said, “I clean up after the hounds enough as it is; I’d like to keep _some_ of my dignity and avoid having to do the same for a sapient being.”

Speaking of the felguard’s job as the resident houndmaster, although Aurinium could tell he had a deep fondness for the strange demonic creatures he raised and tended to, the demon was not so fond of his superiors, who’d occasionally show up to pull him aside (they thought they were out of the elf’s earshot, but they never were; elves had such long ears for a reason) and bark at him more than the felhounds did. They’d complain about what he was doing wrong in his other tasks or lecture him for being too lenient to the prisoner. 

Over time, when the felguard would return to his stump to sharpen his axe (which Aurinium had eventually noticed was not just an axe with a fascinating skull at the center of the twin edges – it had strings like a lute, but he’d never heard the demon play the weapon-instrument before) and keep an eye on his charge, the demon would get angrier and angrier and all the muttering he did about his co-workers would increase. Aurinium guessed that, in the felguard’s head, he was now sharpening the axe to use it upon _them_ one of these days.

“What are you looking at me that way for?” snapped the demon, plunging the head of his axe into the ground. Aurinium jumped as it split the dry earth with ease, what with how often the edges had been honed.

“I just realized I don’t even know your name,” said the elf.

“Trying to bind me to your will again, eh?” The demon sounded paranoid, but understandably so.

“It’s not that; I only feel like we should know each other by name by now. We’ve been spending almost every hour of every day with one another, so… Anyway, I’ll start: I’m Aurinium.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Aurinium sighed; he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his captor, was he?

Seeing how dejected the elf was, the demon eventually caved. “Erakshak,” he murmured in a soft voice that was quite relaxing and silky in its deep bass timbre.

“Hm?”

“My name is Erakshak.”

“You’ve been surprisingly good to me so far, Erakshak,” said the elf with a small smile. Then, he allowed himself to ask, “What’s the deal with those demons who keep coming to bother you while you’re doing your work?”

Erakshak frowned at the question, but he would humor it none the less. The three demons in question were standing off in the distance next to the tainted moonwell and deep in conversation with each other, so the felguard first pointed at what Aurinium recognized as a wrathguard – he was the tallest and the other two demons were listening to him speak with rapt attention, giving the impression that he must be the leader of their group. 

“That’s my brother Zig’arad.” Erakshak moved his finger towards the succubus. “And that’s my… former mate Nazyla.”

“I’m guessing she’s with your brother now,” Aurinium blurted out when he saw the succubus drape her arms around the wrathguard’s thick arm affectionately.

The felguard winced. “Yes, thank you for that very helpful observation.” He went back to the introductions, motioning lastly to the doomguard. “That is Shugen; he used to lead the four of us, but he had to step aside after receiving a wound that never healed from a paladin. He hasn’t been the same ever since – lost a lot of the fight in him. I don’t think he’s ever stopped feeling bitter over the fact that Zig’arad has taken his place.”

“No offense, but I don’t believe you have either,” Aurinium mentioned when he noticed that the expression of pain still lingered on Erakshak’s ashen face.

Erakshak clenched his jaw tightly for a moment. “Yes, well, my day will come.”

“Why wait?” asked the elf.

The felguard was shocked. “Are you suggesting that we attempt to overthrow my brother? You can’t even draw a simple binding rune; you’re useless to me in a fight.”

He had a good point, thought Aurinium. “We could just run away instead.”

Erakshak laughed sarcastically. “You mean together? And go where, exactly?”

“Anywhere,” said the mage. “Where do you want to go?”

Erakshak didn’t know what to think about that. No one ever asked him what _he_ wanted. “I don’t know, really. I never thought about where I might go if I had the choice.”

“Well…” The elf tapped on the padlock of his cage. “We can figure it out as we go.”

The felguard couldn’t believe the elf had the _nerve_ to suggest that he should just free him. This was clearly another trick of his. “It’s clear that being in the Felwood has driven you _mad_ , if you think I’ll just let you go. And if you’re insinuating that I should _serve_ you, I’ll have you know that I’ve never had a warlock master, and I never shall; I will _never_ in my life serve a mortal. I am not so lowly.”

“Calm down,” Aurinium replied. “I never said anything about you serving me. All I said was that we could _both_ leave this place. I tire of this cage, and you tire of your lot in life. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Freeing me would make your brother look incompetent, since it would happen under his watch. That might get your Lord Banehollow to think twice about putting him in a role of leadership.”

The felguard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, seeing the benefit in what the elf was advising, but he still had his doubts about the sorcerer’s honesty. 

“Very well,” he decided. “But go swiftly. I will collect two of my best hounds, then I will meet you outside of Jaedenar.”

Erakshak wished he could bring all of his pets, but he knew he was pushing his luck just to take two. Technically, they belonged more to Lord Banehollow than they did to him, and it wouldn’t go unnoticed if all the felhounds went missing.

Aurinium nodded and was eager to get out when the felguard took the keyring off his hip and unlocked the cage door. He sprinted past the demon, grabbed his bag that was laying beside the tree stump, and ran as fast as his weakened legs would carry him. He’d been sitting in that cage for so long that he nearly forgot how to walk, let alone run. Not to mention he was exhausted from the poor sleep he was getting.

Surely enough, the felguard was true to his word and reunited with him deeper into the forest, with one felhunter (the one that attacked Aurinium) and a felstalker (a nearly identical creature that lacked the magic-sucking appendages) at his side and his massive axe strapped to his back.

In that moment, Aurinium realized he could have purposely lost the felguard; he could have kept going on without him. He rationalized to himself that he only did as he was asked because he feared the felhounds might track him down, but honestly, he hadn’t even thought of that when he waited for Erakshak to come.

So, Aurinium came up with a new story to tell himself: Turning down the night elf Likane’s offer to protect him was obviously what got him in trouble with the felhunter, and having this felguard (as reluctant as he was to take on a companion) around would prevent something like that from happening so easily again. Yes, that was the reason; it only made sense.

“We should keep going north,” suggested the felguard, out of breath. “I know of a place where we can lay low until it’s safe to leave for the south. They won’t expect us to go north; that’s headed for Winterspring, a place of old elven ruins and a bit of a dead end, or the Moonglade, which is druid territory. We’ll hide right under their noses.”

Aurinium walked towards Erakshak, feeling quite tired himself. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it, but I just need to-” Erakshak caught the elf when he collapsed from exhaustion.

The demon jostled the mortal, trying to awaken him, but he was out cold. He could have left the elf behind and allow him to be recaptured or killed, leaving him to whatever fate his demonic brethren would meet upon him, but since the elf hadn’t deceived him again, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Erakshak may have been a demon, but he had standards.

So, he hoisted the mage up into his arms, and carried him to an abandoned cave that he remembered the location of, while his felhounds followed loyally and kept a lookout for agents of Jaedenar.

This was not the way he envisioned he would end his career as a soldier of the Burning Legion.


End file.
